When Fire Melts Ice
by thegirlwiththebigdreams
Summary: A peek into the history that is Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen, but not the same story that is told by the history books in Westeros. Rather, a tale of star crossed love that was too soon forgotten. My interpretation of what could have happened.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys, so this is my first attempt at a GoT fanfiction, so please bear with me! Some of the actual timeline of events may be slightly altered for the purpose of the story and, since it is of course Game of Thrones, there will be scenes that are definitely not fit for children. I've always been super interested in the story of Jon Snow's parents (spoiler alert if any of you haven't watched season six, I apologize), so this is what my imagination came up with! Of course, I own nothing, and reviews are welcome! I will try to update as quickly as I can!**

 **Mina**

* * *

Present

"Could you be more stupid?!" Lyanna cried, crossing her arms in distress. A small vein in her forehead began to stand out under the pale flesh, and he felt an adoring grin spring to his lips. She scoffed, "You have a wife and children! I have a betrothed! AND THEY WERE ALL WATCHING US!"

Rhaegar leaned casually against the hard wood of the dresser and watched her rant in silence. She really was the most beautiful woman he'd ever encountered. Lyanna possessed the beauty and femininity of her mother, the temperament of her father, and the spirit of her brothers. Whenever she was around, Rhaegar was reintroduced to excitement and wonder. She set his senses ablaze, and he couldn't help but appreciate the irony that lay in the fact that a lady of the North could set the young dragon on fire.

"You did it to us, Lyanna," he said, shrugging slightly, "You were too beautiful. I could not stop myself."

She rolled her eyes and tried not to smile. There was something about the way that he always seemed so comfortable and so sure he was making the right choice that was attractive to her. It always had been, since they'd met only a year or so before, when she had gone with her father to visit her brother, Ned, a ward in the Vale. Rhaegar had been there by chance, roaming the kingdoms aimlessly as he often did, much to his father's dismay…

* * *

Nearly two years earlier

 _She'd stumbled upon him while he was sitting in one of the corridors by a window, holding the little stringed instrument that the south loved so much. He was beautiful, of course. His hair was as silver as the very stars in the sky, his eyes a deep violet that seemed to dance in the light of the sun. He had a sincere smile, one that appeared on his face as soon as he'd seen her approach him, and his voice was the listening to the sound of honey._

 _"Lady Lyanna Stark," he said warmly._

 _She blinked, unsure of what to say. Her name had rolled off his tongue without awkwardness or uncertainty; he knew exactly who she was and he wanted her to know that. She wasn't used to such informality, "Yes, my prince. I could hear you playing from my chambers. I am sorry, I did not mean to disturb you."_

 _He shrugged slightly and leaned against the stone wall, "Beauty never disturbs."_

 _She felt a blush rise in her cheeks. Her father, though an honorable man, had always failed at hiding his dislike of the Targaryen house. Throughout his daughter's childhood, he had described them as being too ostentatious and self-obsessed to ever be truly successful rulers. He'd slighted their beautiful appearances and their lack of honor too many times for Lyanna to count. All of those judgements, all of those opinions completely dissolved as she stared down at Rhaegar Targaryen._

 _She swallowed hard, "You flatter me, my prince, but surely I disturbed you a little. You stopped playing."_

 _He playfully strummed the strings and raised his eyebrows at her, "I was simply finished with the song. And please, call me Rhaegar."_

 _"Rhaegar," she said, the name feeling too comfortable on his lips. Before she could stop herself, she repeated the name, "Rhaegar…"_

 _He rose to his feet and bowed for her politely. There was something bold about him that intimidated her as he spoke, "You have a soothing voice. Do you sing?"_

 _She snorted, "Hardly. My father would not approve of us learning to play instruments and singing songs."_

 _"And why ever not?" he asked, cocking his head to the side slightly. His eyes floated over her figure and she grew warm._

 _Lyanna cleared her throat, "I – I suppose he just finds it unlike the North."_

 _Rhaegar's brows furrowed, "I see…well I will just have to show you. Have you ever heard 'The Lady of Lynese'?"_

 _She shook her head. A sweet smile danced across his lips and he began to play, "And the black hearted Lady of Lynese, with black eyes and black hair; whose beauty condemned the hearts of men and whose presence warmed the air; she chilled the lives of enemies, she conquered and she killed; but towards a knight, a fair fair knight, she found her heart was willed. And so the lady of Lynese, though beautiful and strong; fell in love with a simple knight who everyone deemed as wrong. She sacrificed her riches and she cut off her black hair; and the lords of Lynese cried their black hearted lady was not there."_

 _Lyanna was mesmerized by the sound of his voice, and she found herself wishing that the song was longer. She chuckled slightly at the end of it, "So she fell in love with someone she wasn't supposed to, and the world weeped for her?"_

 _Rhaegar nodded, "In essence, yes."_

 _"What a funny idea," she said softly. He was still standing, and she suddenly felt the need to be closer to him. There was something magnetic about his quick smile. It called all of her senses to attention. She loved it; she had never in her life experienced anything quite like the feeling of being around Rhaegar Targaryen._

 _"Now you try," he said, taking one of her hands and placing it on the stringed instrument. The contact, however small, set her entire body on fire. She swallowed hard and looked up at his face to see if he, too, was surprised._

 _Rhaegar's face was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. His eyes were widened, his lips slightly parted, and his expression was impossible to read, yet he was still perfect. He glanced down at her lips, a silent question in his eyes. She felt the urge to step into him and allow him to kiss her. She quickly realized that she hated the feeling of desire almost as much as she loved it. All she did then was simply nod, and everything else vanished._

 _Rhaegar had felt every single nerve ending in his body rejoice when she nodded her head. Lyanna Stark was, for lack of a better term, compelling. She was gorgeous, of course, but she was also firm. He could immediately tell that she was a respectable young woman and that she surely would never encourage his fantasies. But with that nod, that beautiful little gesture of consent, all of his doubts melted away. He leaned his head down and pressed his lips to hers in a moment of sweet passion, and never wanted to escape it._

* * *

Present

Even two years later, the feeling of that first kiss burned on Lyanna's lips. She paused, reminding herself of the situation they found themselves in. Elia Martel was there with their beautiful children. Robert Baratheon was there, his heart and his future hers for the taking. Robert had always been in love with her, and it would be a horrific thing of her to break his heart along with the marital vows that Rhaegar had made. She was an honorable woman. She was a Stark. She couldn't possibility do anything as stupid as fall in love with the prince, Rhaegar Targaryen.

"Why did you pull me in here?" she asked, gesturing to the small tent that they were standing in. There was a bed and a dresser, though both were far too modest to be his.

He looked around, his violet eyes serious, "I wanted to speak with you."

"But why?" she asked desperately, her skin growing warm all over again. Her voice grew sarcastic as she asked, "Have another song to teach me?"

He smiled, "No, not quite. I do not really have an answer. I just enjoy your company."

"That's a dangerous pleasure, my prince."

"Rhaegar," he corrected her immediately, "And I am aware. It does not mean it was not worth it. I knew you would never agree to speak with me privately if you did not have something to say."

Lyanna crossed her arms, "So you decided to make a spectacle of my embarrassment?"

"It worked, did it not?" he said, smirking seductively.

She swallowed, choosing to ignore his arrogance. She faced him completely, her expression suddenly very serious, "What do you want from me, Rhaegar Targaryen?"

"All you can give me, Lyanna Stark."

She straightened her posture and tried not to react to his words, "You barely know me."

"I disagree with that," he said, shrugging slightly, "I think we understand each other quite well, actually."

She sighed loudly, "You _think_. We live completely different lives. We met once, for a very brief period, what makes you think I am at all interested in spending time with you?"

He took a step toward her, and he immediately felt the tension rise. He knew that she feared what she felt, as did he, though he was obviously more cavalier than she was. He liked that she didn't know what to make of him. He liked that she was conflicted about what it meant in regards to her honor. All of the things that made her the mysterious, chaste beauty that she was, he liked, "That kiss."

A blush painted her cheeks, "It – It was a mistake, you know that."

"Was it?" he asked softly. He took a few more steps toward her and searched her eyes for an answer, "Because, normally, one learns from mistakes."

"Yes," was all she managed.

"I learned several things that one afternoon, all of which make me want to repeat the mistake, over and over," he breathed deeply. Lyanna allowed him to press his body against hers as he kissed her again.

She felt a rush of emotion. There were so many things wrong with the situation, but she couldn't pretend that she hadn't thought about the kiss hundreds, maybe thousands of times over the past two years. All thoughts of Elia were forgotten, all thoughts of Robert were forgotten. All that there was lay in between their two bodies.

Rhaegar slipped his tongue past her sweet lips and she stiffened against him. His touch was like fire against her skin, an impossibly delicious fire that left her entire body tingling the second he pulled away. She couldn't stop the whimper that escaped her throat.

A slow smile crept across his face, "My my, Lady Lyanna, it seems you agree."

She rolled her eyes playfully, but would not give him the satisfaction of vulnerability. She straightened her already straight skirts and tucked a lock of black hair behind her ear, "We should get back before anyone notices."

"When will I see you again?" he asked, his honey voice dripping with desire.

Lyanna paused, "When do you want to?"

"Whenever you are ready," he smirked, planting a small kiss on her swollen lips.

She blushed, "I'm sure I do not know what you mean."

Rhaegar assessed her figure quickly, taking in how truly beautiful she was. He wanted every second he could get with her alone, and he meant to spend future time wisely, "Ok."


	2. Chapter 2

Benjen, the youngest of the Stark children, had always held a certain sense of responsibility when it came to his older siblings. Lyanna loved him for it, because it made him unique amongst her brothers. Brandon was the warrior. Ned was the diplomat. And Benjen, the protector. The confidant. The friend. She'd always favored the youngest Stark, and he'd always favored her, so it was no surprise to her that he was the only one who had noticed her brief absence. He always did.

"Sister? Where did you disappear to before supper?" he asked as she took her rightful place at the Stark table. He smiled for good measure, letting her know he wasn't upset but curious, "I almost alerted the guards. I told myself, you know that Lyanna eats more than the lot of us, surely she must have been taken by some sort of monster."

She beamed at him and playfully rolled her dark eyes. She glanced around the rather large tent that was serving as the tournament's supper hall, marveling at the many noble families she saw. It never ceased to amaze her how large the world outside of the North was, and though she loved her home dearly, she wanted to take it all in while she could.

Rhaegar was staring at her as her eyes fell on the royal family's table. He was eating some sort of Dornish fruit, his eyes never leaving hers as he took a hearty bite of it. She bit her lip and turned back to her brother, "Yes, well, I convinced the monster to release me in time for supper."

Benjen smiled slightly and turned to listen in on a conversation taking place between the rest of the Starks. Ned glanced over at his younger sister, who's eyes were distant.

He smiled wryly when she noticed his gaze was directed at her, "So, I was not aware that your relationship with Rhaegar Targaryen was so amorous."

 _Neither was I_ , Lyanna thought to herself. She said nothing of the sort to her brother, "Oh, please. You know that a Targaryen's vanity is much fiercer than any jousting skills he possesses. He wanted to put on a show. I was not amused."

Ned shrugged slightly, "Neither was Robert."

Brandon snorted, "As if he needed another reason to despise the Targaryens."

"I suppose you could say his pride was 'burned'," Benjen added, causing the three Stark brothers to erupt into laughter.

Rickard Stark rolled his eyes, though could not stop the slow smile from creeping across his bearded face, "That's enough teasing your sister, now. She's got the most sense out of all of you as it is; don't risk showing the seven kingdoms that she is more serious, too."

Lyanna smiled gratefully at her father, and moments later found herself daydreaming about the kiss.

Rhaegar watched as Lyanna struggled to pay attention to her family. It was intoxicating, really, the thought that her own desire was drawing her away from what she knew. He studied every inch of her from across the large dining tent, making mental notes of everything he noticed. Her dark eyelashes seemed to flutter every time she found herself looking over at him. Her pale neck was long and beautiful, and exposed to him thanks to the way she had tied her hair in a knot at the back of her head. Her lips were parted, as though she was struggling to breathe otherwise, and he loved it. He loved every second of it.

Elia shifted uncomfortably beside him, his baby son bouncing in her lap cheerfully. He glanced at her momentarily, watching as a look of relief swept over her face when Aegon's nurse came to collect him.

Rhaegar loved his children. Aegon was his heir and the brightest babe he had ever seen. Everything about him was regal, as a Targaryen should be. And Rhaegar's daughter, Rhaenys, was still very young, but obviously very intelligent. She had had a gift for delighting people since the moment she was born, a gift that Rhaegar, too, possessed. However, that was where her resemblance to her father ended. Everything else about Rhaenys screamed Elia Martell.

Elia had always been beautiful. She had an exotic Dornish charm that had initially sparked his interest, though he could not pretend that he had ever loved her. They had been formally introduced shortly before their wedding, and though he knew that they were fond of one another, it was quite evident that they both could have been happier had they lived separate lives. But she was a loyal wife and a loving mother (when it suited her), and he could not help but feel some regret about the fact that he could not force himself to feel for her what he felt around Lyanna. Even worse was the fact that, even in the presence of his infant son, he could not pretend that children with Lyanna Stark were not extremely appealing to him.

Lyanna could hardly focus on her meal. Ned and Benjen were in deep conversation, marveling at the size and power of The Mountain, voicing opinions about who they believed would be ultimately victorious. Brandon and their father, Lord Rickard Stark, were discussing the subject of Brandon's betrothed, Catelyn Tully, who was seated at a neighboring table. She tried to distract herself by glances around at the different noble families. The Baratheons were not far, and she could see Robert and Renly laughing and drinking wine. She tried to focus her attention on Robert. He was so very sweet on her, always complimenting and making promises of the future they would have together. It made her feel sick to her stomach, because all she could think about was whether or not Rhaegar was still looking at her.

The next day of the tournament seemed to last a lifetime. Lyanna did her best to avoid him the entire day, making sure that she dismissed herself before he participated in the games so that he could not repeat his actions from the day before. The actions that led to his pulling her inside the tent of some unsuspecting man, the actions that had caused her so much embarrassment and harassment from her siblings.

And so, she lay in bed, hoping that she could see him every minute and also never see him again.

* * *

The Previous Day

 _Lyanna sat beside her family, carelessly picking at the stitching in her day gown. She despised the tournaments that her father always insisted she attend with him and her brothers. There was nothing worthwhile for her there. Seeing stupid, sometimes drunken men slice each other open for no actual reward whatsoever was not satisfying to her in the least. It was counter-productive, in her opinion. Why should the best knights be murdered by their allies rather than saving those skills for war?_

 _War against who, however, she knew not, so she kept her opinions to herself._

 _Brandon was enthralled. Ned looked slightly uncomfortable. And Benjen seemed to avoid watching altogether. Her father, Rickard Stark, watched without blinking. As warden of the North, he was expected to be a certain way. He was expected to attend the tournaments that he was able to travel to and he was expected to be diplomatic and he was expected to be cold. He represented the North, after all, and whenever the royals and other nobles of the seven kingdoms saw him, they were reminded that winter was coming._

 _The announcer's voice had murmured like background noise until that moment, when he called, "Prince Rhaegar of the House Targaryen!"_

 _Lyanna inhaled sharply when she saw him. It had been a year or two, she could not exactly remember, but the way he enchanted everyone in attendance seemed all too familiar to her. He had not changed at all. He still had a smile like the summer sun and all of the charisma a future king should possess. She felt breathless as he turned his gaze toward her._

 _The entire seven kingdoms stood still, and she could hear his voice serenading her as though they were once again in the Vale. '…But towards a knight, a fair fair knight, she found her heart was willed.'_

 _Except he was not a knight at all. He was a prince, and the way she felt as she stared into his violet eyes shook her to her core. And the actions that followed seemed to both excite and anger her terribly._

 _Rhaegar did not drop his gaze from her face as he led his horse closer to the section of the audience where the Starks were seated. Past his father and his wife, past his children without so much as a glance in their direction. Lyanna's face burned with shame as he stopped right in front of her and placed his favor gently on her lap._

* * *

Present

Lyanna's eyes flew open and she jolted upright in her bed. The warm air of the Riverlands kissed her skin even through the thick cloth of her tent. A stream of perspiration fell from her brow, and she gasped slightly. Her mind had been constantly playing the scene from the previous day. It haunted her thoughts and her dreams.

She had scolded him in the tent of some unknown squire, though the effectiveness of her stern attitude toward him was nonexistent. He had tasted her lips as though they were some delicate, exotic fruit. He had whispered treasures to her and given her ideas that were nothing short of dangerous. She needed to get some air. She stood, placed a large shawl around her night dress and slipped her feet into her shoes.

Lyanna Stark had always been clever, much cleverer than the guards gave her credit for. She had been evading their attention since she was a child, and that night was no exception. She quickly exited the tent without being seen, and made her way to a nearby rivers edge to collect her thoughts.

But it seemed that the gods had other plans for her, because as she walked slowly and silently, a voice floated through the air, causing her to question whether or not she was still within a dream.

"… _with black eyes and black hair; whose beauty condemned the hearts of men…"_

She could not yet see him, though she could hear his angelic voice. If she could have frozen that moment in time, that innocent collection of seconds that allowed her all of the peace she had been seeking from the walk, she would have done so without question. A swift wind presented itself, blowing open her shawl and tossing a few strands of black hair around her face. She shivered slightly, causing the prince to turn from where he was standing waist deep in the river. Until that moment, the moonlight had not illuminated his silver hair or accented his fair, beautiful skin. Every inch of it. Lyanna gasped and felt her face turn crimson.

"A prince should not be completely exposed in such a public fashion," she said, shielding her eyes from his body with one small hand. However, after a few moments, her fingers seemed to part on their own accord, allowing her to see him anyway. Allowing her to imagine what his skin felt like against hers.

"A lady should not be roaming around at night on her own," he countered. He stood before her, as confidently as ever, and smiled wide. He was so beautiful that she could barely handle the sight of him. She swallowed as he added, "Oh, and a prince does whatever he wants."

He took a step toward her, removing himself that much more from the water, and she froze, "Do not come any closer, or I will scream."

Rhaegar's face looked amused, though he did halt his feet, "Are you afraid of me?"

"Yes," she whispered before she could stop herself.

He then continued to approach her, and her throat was so dry then that she could not even protest. She longed for him to be closer and hated herself for it. Rhaegar had closed the space between them when he said, "You have no reason to be."

Lyanna swalloet wed hard, "I have every reason to be."

"Do you?" he said, his eyes tracing every inch of her face with their gaze, "Why do you feel such a thing?"

"You represent everything that I have been constantly taught to avoid in a man," she said honestly.

"Yet you cannot, and neither can I," he said, smiling slightly.

"But the difference, my prince, is that I am at least making the effort."

"Indulge in the pleasure of that which others suspect of us already," he whispered, leaning forward to kiss the side of her neck. She shivered, as he had hoped she would, "Surrender yourself, Lyanna of House Stark."

"Surrender myself to…to you?" she asked breathlessly, blushing slightly as he raised a hand to trace the line of her clavicle, which was covered by a thin layer of cloth that made up her gown, "But…but Robert…and Elia…and my family…they only suspect it of us because you so daringly revealed something to them that does not even exist."

"They do not matter," he said, letting his fingers brush the area between her breasts, "Can you honestly tell me that you love that Baratheon boy?"

She blushed furiously at the touch of his hand, and looked up at him with slight panic and uncertainty in her dark eyes, "I care for him very deeply."

"But you do not love him, do you?" he said, shaking his head slightly, "Say you do marry him. Say you decide to never speak to me again after the tournament is over. Years from now, when you are a wife and mother to Baratheon children and the Lady of Storm's End, you will think of me. Every night that he is on top of you, old and fat and completely drunk, you will think of this opportunity that you denied yourself. You will think of how it would have felt to have my hands all over your skin, and to have my lips kiss every inch of your body. And you will be inexplicably unhappy."

Every inch of her skin was on fire, as was her temper, "Always so arrogant. What makes you think I even want your attention? I avoided you the entire day. I did not want to see you because I did not want to deal with your silly games or self-destructive desires. I do not want you."

"You need me," he said, shrugging, as though his words were common knowledge.

Her mouth fell open, "You are ridiculous."

"You are lovely."

And with that, he slammed his lips down against hers. She gasped, too excited to think about the reality of what was happening, and felt her arms fly up to wrap themselves around his neck. She pulled him in, and he continued to worship her mouth with his own. His tongue slipped past her plump, pouty lips, and a moan escaped her mouth before she could stop it. He conquered her tongue with his own, and his hands found her hips and pulled her body against his own. He was thinking of nothing but how amazing she felt in his arms. He removed his mouth from her own only to bend down and take one still covered nipple into his mouth. She cried out softly as she felt his tongue work her through the material of her nightgown. The shawl had disappeared and so had her judgement. All she could think about was the pleasure shooting through her thanks to his delicious mouth. He felt her fingers tangle themselves in his silver hair, and a shiver of something unspoken and completely sinful shot through his body and clearly revealed itself against her.

Lyanna's eyes shot open as she felt it. Rhaegar could feel the shift immediately, and pulled away from her so that he could look into her eyes. Her face communicated panic, but she did not pull her body away from him like he had expected. Instead he watched as her face slowly twisted into confusion. Her lovely dark hair fell around her shoulders, causing her to look wild and beautiful in the moonlight. The soft sound of the river behind him drowned out the somewhat awkward silence between them. Rhaegar felt frozen in time, waiting for what felt like centuries for her to say what he knew she wanted to.

"You represent everything that I have been constantly taught to avoid in a man," she said again, though there was an edge to her voice that had not been present before. She smiled slowly before kissing his lips for the briefest of moments.

Before he could respond or even react, she turned on her heel and walked quickly back toward her tent.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Rhaegar awoke to the sound of voices outside of his tent. He had gotten very little sleep the night before, but he somehow felt refreshed and more alive than he had in months. He yawned heartily before realizing that one of the booming voices outside of his tent happened to be that of his father, the king.

Aerys Targaryen had never been a gentle man and, as a result, had never uttered gentle words. He said something remotely dismissive to one of the prince's guards and entered the tent without warning. Rhaegar jumped slightly at his father's sudden presence, and could not help the small smile from springing to his lips at the sight of him. His fair skin was painted an angry shade of crimson, his violet eyes were slightly manic, and he was breathing through his mouth as though the task of inhaling was too laborious for the use of his nostrils.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, father?" Rhaegar said sarcastically, laying back gently in his bed as though he had no intention of rising to greet the king. Which he did not.

Aerys scoffed and approached the bed with impressive speed, "Where is she?"

Rhaegar felt the smile on his face loosen until he was not smiling at all. Instead, his face bore an emotionless expression that neither hinted nor dismissed the notion that he was afraid of his father's question, "Who?"

"Your wife," his father said angrily, "You insulted her in front of every important person in the seven kingdoms and then you do not even bed her in the days following. She is not happy, and now the Dornish are not happy because she has written of your stunt. Explain yourself."

Rhaegar blinked, "Are you suggesting that every noble marriage is composed of people who share a bed every single night? Especially at a tournament? Please, it is nothing out of the ordinary-"

"You do not have a 'noble marriage', you have a royal one. And Elia Martel is to be satisfied at all costs, less we lose good relations with her filthy family."

Rhaegar rolled his eyes slightly, "We are Targaryens, we shouldn't _need_ an alliance with anyone. We should simply uphold them because we are more powerful when people are indebted to us. Besides, it isn't as though she even loves-"

Aerys cut off his words for a second time, "In a perfect world, we do not need them. And even now, we only make alliances to strengthen our house and nothing more. However, we cannot strengthen our house if the entire world sees you as some charming young prince who whores and drinks and crosses lines with other houses that are not to be crossed."

Rhaegar smiled slightly at the mention of his gift to Lyanna. His skin grew warm at the thought of her, "You are referring to the Stark girl."

"Yes, of course, unless you are flaunting a similar stupidity towards another house that I am unaware of," his father spat acidly, "It is ridiculous, the way you behave. You will be a disappointment as a son and a king if you do not learn to prioritize and control yourself. I do not care how pretty she is or how easily she will give herself to you. You have to keep your Dornish woman in good spirits. And, also, it is the responsibility of every Targaryen to keep the bloodlines as pure as possible. I cursed the gods for not giving you a sister to ensure the purity, though the Dornish royals must suffice. A bastard child would further make a mockery of us and everything our family has built surrounding this idea."

Rhaegar winced at the mention of a child with Lyanna. She had not given herself to him, and he doubted she was the type of woman who would do so without extreme care and persistence, both of which he would be willing to give to her. He swallowed hard, choosing his next words carefully, and looked straight into his father's eyes, "Is that all, _your grace_?"

Aerys sighed loudly, angrily, and stalked out of the tent as quickly as he had entered.

* * *

Lyanna longed for a walk to stretch her legs. She had always loved to walk in the North when the weather permitted. It was relaxing, and the act of removing oneself from the pressures of nobility for a while was extremely appealing. At least, that's what she had told herself had been her motivations the night before. She frowned. Of course, she hadn't known that the prince was going to be there, but he hadn't exactly been an unpleasant surprise. She liked to give him a harder time than she actually needed to and she could sense he liked it, too. There was something attractive about the idea of a run and chase dynamic between them.

And he had been beautifully naked in the moonlight. She could still picture every detail when she closed her eyes. She had seen men naked before, but never in such close proximity and never with as much confidence as Rhaegar had exhibited. Not to mention the daring thing he had done with his mouth, through the thin material of her night gown…

She stalked past the tents of her brothers, quietly praying to the Gods that they didn't hear her. It was broad daylight and it wasn't as though the circumstances were as indecent as the previous night, but she still wasn't in the mood to talk. Her father would be the only one of them who would understand this, for he, too, grew restless and silent when in need of a pensive walk. However, she wasn't confident in her ability to conceal her emotions around her father. They had always been close. Like Benjen, Rickard Stark exhibited the capacity to understand her and her position while remaining honest and enlightening. She adored him for it.

She sighed loudly and continued to walk in silence. However, her peace was quickly disrupted by the sudden feeling of a hand on her arm.

She gasped, startled, and spun around to face him. She was waiting for him to approach her that day to embarrass her more, though he hadn't yet disturbed her. When she laid eyes on the breaker of her peace, she was surprised to find anyone other than the prince there.

Robert Baratheon stood there, smiling at her like an idiot in love. She immediately flashed a shy smile. She'd always felt awkward and shy around Robert; he was like the comical friend that one could not help but love, like a puppy. She stared up at him and took in the sight before her. She couldn't deny that he was handsome. He was built like a mountain; all shoulders and muscles placed upon a tall frame. His hair was as black as night, as was hers, and his eyes were full of the purest affection that she had ever witnessed. The very sight of it made her chest tighten.

"I'm sorry, my lord, you startled me," she said with a small, forced laughed. Not only did she feel surprisingly disappointed that it wasn't Rhaegar, but she also realized that her walk was cut short.

"It's alright, _my lady_ ," he said, mocking her formal tone as if they weren't possibly going to be wed, "I suppose I can pardon your less than enthusiastic reaction."

"Oh, how very kind of you," Lyanna said, loosening up as she saw the genuine delight in his red cheeks, "How are you today, Robert?"

"I am doing well. Cannot complain. I've been drunk since the sun rose, praying to the seven it'll be over soon," he said, rolling his eyes as he gestured toward the entirety of the tournament.

Lyanna knitted her brows, though did not shed her smile, "I thought you enjoyed tournaments?"

"Oh, I do," Robert said, stifling a belch, "However, I do not enjoy Targaryens as much. All of their pride seems to taint the taste of the wine and the excitement of a good joust."

Lyanna sunk down, then. Her father felt the same. The entirety of the North felt the same. She searched for the words to say, "I…I couldn't agree more. They are a vain lot."

Robert shrugged, lifting an arm to her so that she could walk with him. He gave a dark chuckle and asked, "Where have your brothers run off to? Brandon owes me a drink for betting against Ser Jaime, the fool. Jaime Lannister is the finest knight in the seven kingdoms."

Lyanna shrugged slightly as she glanced around the tournament camp. They were approaching the stands, and she could see any number of lords and ladies seated and waiting for the games to begin for the day, "Oh, I have no idea. Off wooing his betrothed, perhaps. He's grown quite fond of her."

Robert laughed loudly, "She's fiery, that one. Got the Tully spirit, the Tully red hair. I hear she's been spending a lot of her time here with your brothers, so that probably doesn't help her grow more docile."

She nodded, ignoring his slightly chauvinistic comment, "She wants to learn the dynamic of Winterfell, says it will help her be a better Lady Stark."

Robert shrugged and raised his dark brows, "Perhaps she's got the right idea. Maybe you should consider visiting Storm's End when the tournament is over."

Her eyes widened at the hint, and she felt her cheeks go red. She could feel Robert's dark eyes on her, waiting for an answer or response of any kind. However, it was not Robert's gaze that struck her so strongly, but that of another, lighter set of eyes, that hid behind long silvery hair. She glanced up and saw _him_ , then, the one she'd been expecting to see. The one who was wearing many more layers than the last time she'd seen him.

There was something so arrogant about him, though she found herself unable to hate that quality in him. It was a large part of his charm; his sense of absolute security in every circumstance was nothing if not alluring. He smirked at her, his violet eyes communicating with a single bat of his lashes that he knew she had been thinking about him. It drove her crazy.

She stared over at him discreetly, and after several moments of tension flowing between the prince and her, Lyanna turned back to Robert. She gave a sweet smile, as sweet as she had ever managed, and said, "It would be a delight. I've always wanted to see the Stormlands."

With that, she placed a chaste kiss on his recently shaven cheek, and turned to see that Rhaegar's coy smile had vanished without a trace. _Good_.

* * *

Once the day was coming to a close and Lyanna returned to her tent to dress for supper, she felt a great weight leave her chest. The tournament was growing torturous, though she was not sure whether she wanted it to end the next day or last a life time. In truth, she had never experienced excitement the way she did around Rhaegar Targaryen. She had never felt so adored or sought after. Even with Robert practically kissing her feet as she walked, she didn't feel the way she did when around the prince. It was like nothing she had ever imagined.

There was, of course, a feeling in the pit of her stomach that wanted to rid herself of any improprieties from there on out. It swelled up whenever she was not around him, whenever she was granted the peace that allowed her to overthink. The feeling was sharp, painful, and had a name: Elia Martel.

Lyanna sighed and walked over to her small bed. Despite not being there for long, she'd been provided with a featherbed for her tent, and the simple luxury seemed miraculous in moments such as that one. She plopped down on it, feeling her eyes begin to drift close regardless of the fact that she needed to change and leave for supper.

"Lyanna..." she imagined his sweet voice saying, though it seemed so real. She loved the way his mouth seemed to literally kiss her name as it left his lips.

She sighed, content, and snuggled against the cool surface of the bed, imagining his lean chest was under her cheek. She'd never thought about something so intimate in her life regarding a man.

"Lyanna," she heard again, though she was almost sure it wasn't her imagination. She squinted through dark lashes to see the prince's face level with hers.

She bolted up and stood from the bed, her face twisted in confusion and slight anger, "What in seven hells are you doing here?"

Rhaegar stood from where he had previously been seated, from where he had been able to hide himself from her initially. He pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his muscular chest, "I had to talk to you about what I saw at the joust earlier."

Lyanna shook her head in bewilderment, "What could you possibly be referring to?"

"You know," he said, taking a step toward the bed. His eyes glanced from her face to the mattress, and she felt her entire body go warm. Her dress suddenly felt heavy and her breathing became labored as she saw him so close to her bed.

"I-I do?"

"The kiss, Lyanna," Rhaegar said, shaking his head with false disappointment. Lyanna quickly caught on to his informal tone and humorous approach to the conversation, and relaxed her shoulders as he continued, "I was upset to see those lips touch another, as you were aware. You did it to elicit pain."

Lyanna then shook her head slowly, her voice taking on the same sarcastic tone, "W-why, my prince, that kiss meant no offense, _truly_. I kissed Robert in that moment without thinking much about it. I didn't expect you to feel anything from it, but it's clear you do." She couldn't stop her eyes from staring at his lips.

Rhaegar's eyes flickered over her body. She was so beautiful he could hardly stand it, and the way that she seemed to be dancing around him with words made him more excited than he should have been. He couldn't help himself around her.

The dress was too shapeless for him to be able to make out something of substance underneath, though he liked that about her. He liked that, just like him, none of the other men could see what she was hiding. He cursed himself at the same time, though, for desperately wanting to know, despite what his father had said.

He took another step toward the bed, "My father wants me to stay away from you."

"My entire family wants me to stay away from you," Lyanna said, feeling herself compelled to also step closer. Her feet moved on their own accord.

Rhaegar placed his knees on the mattress, then, and moved toward her slowly. Sensually. She caught her breath as he sat up right in front of her, his eyes level with her chest. She inhaled sharply at the fact, all thoughts of Elia and Robert completely gone. As usual.

He let a hand drift up and trace her collar bones lightly as he appreciated the rise and fall of her chest. Even through the modest clothing, he could see the slight outline of her chest. He wanted to grab the strings that were holding the upper portion of her day gown together and yanked them apart with his teeth. He, of course, refrained from doing so. He chuckled to himself, "Why is it that we seem to find it so difficult to obey rules?"

"We must enjoy the idea of punishment," she said, swallowing hard.

His brows shot up in surprise, though his face seemed unashamedly delighted by her reply, "Indeed we must."

He continued to stare up at her, mesmerized by the rhythmic breaths escaping her parted lips. He wanted to kiss them without fear or doubt. He wanted to show her how much he could make her feel if only she would allow him the pleasure.

Lyanna swallowed again as she looked down at him. His lips were perfect, and she couldn't help but remember how they'd felt through the nightgown the previous night. She had been replaying the scene over and over again in her head.

Without thinking, she took his face in her hands and tilted it up to meet her kiss. It was slow and searing; Rhaegar swore that the young lady of the North held just as much fire in his lips as any dragon that had ever lived. But there was something deeper than lust being passed between the two of them, and he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to explore that, as well. She was full of possibilities.

He slipped his tongue past her lips, and she stepped into the kiss even more. His hands flew up to rest on her hips, which initially shocked her, but eventually gave her a sense of comfort and longing. She had absolutely no desire to go to supper.

He wanted to touch her so badly, but he didn't want to frighten her. He continued to kiss her, varying pressure between light kisses and ones that visibly made her knees weak. He squeezed her hips, noting to himself that they were perfectly round and delicate at the same time. One hand flew up to cup her perfect breast, released a moan so deep in her throat he was surprised that it didn't echo throughout her entire body. Her chest was perfect, soft, fitting just right in his hand. He could picture himself using his tongue against the skin there, unlike the night before, eliciting noises of encouragement from her lips.

Gods, he wanted her. He wanted her to be screaming his name and finishing on top of him over and over until she couldn't walk straight the next day. He wanted her to tell him she wanted him, to _show_ him she wanted him. He wanted her to be begging and smiling and crying out with pleasure. He wanted them to lay side by side, naked, and talk and make love and sleep together every night for the rest of the tournament.

But he knew she would never let any of that happen without proper effort. And as he kissed the space between her breasts through her day gown, he thought about how much he was willing to dedicate to make those thoughts of his a reality.

He pulled away from her and stood up without warning. She looked startled, then confused, then annoyed. Her dark eyes searched his face. "What?"

"I'm going to wait to make you mine until I'm sure it is what you want."

Her face turned absolutely red. She didn't know what she wanted in terms of _that_. It would be horribly scandalous for her to give herself, for the first time, to the married prince. She hadn't exactly thought of what the full consequences of that could be. Her body had just told her to consider how fun it might be, anyway. "And if I never want that?"

"Then nothing. I would never force it on you."

As many tricks as he had been playing with her, and as many times as she had prepared to resist, she had always managed to let him know she wasn't against the idea of him flirting with her in private. In public, in front of his wife and her family, was a little different. But she had never truly resisted his advances, so she found herself just as guilty as he was.

"Rhaegar?"

He stared into her face. They both thought about how beautiful the other was, "Yes?"

"What is this?" she asked, looking down at the inches of space between them on the bed. He smiled, as he always did, and used his free hand to tilt her chin upwards and look in her eyes.

"Simply put…I'm courting you, Lyanna Stark," he said with a glimmer in his eyes as though he believed every word of it. She, however, did not. It took her a moment to process what he had said and understand the weight of it. She didn't know what she had expected him to do to earn her undying consent to bind herself to him, but it wasn't that.

"You're married!" she cried a little more dramatically than she had intended to. She quickly straightened her posture and pouted. It was adorable and serious.

A wicked grin touched his face. She froze at the sight of it. There were very few things in the world she found more attractive than the way he looked in that moment, but she would never admit to that out loud.

Well, eventually, maybe she would. He was making her do all sorts of things that surprised herself and amused him as of late. He crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged, "I'm courting you. I have never courted anyone in my life."

She swallowed. Elia and Rhaegar had been arranged by their fathers. And as far as she was aware, there were no serious things before his marriage. He probably wasn't lying to her. He had never had to truly woo someone, and the thought of that made her feel differently about the situation. She felt stupid but she felt enamored, also, "What do you plan to do, exactly?'

He sighed and crossed the room so that he could stand in front of her. She looked up at him, waiting for his answer. His fingers flew up to gently hold her chin. He leaned down, looking into her eyes until he was too close to do so, and kissed her heavily. Pulling away after a moment, leaving her breathless, he said, "Well, to start, I'm going to talk with Robert Baratheon tomorrow."


End file.
